Page 23

“Bro, I’ve got your back.” He held up the paper. “If I’m running a plate, you’re filling me in on why. You know I can get in some shit for running this.”

“Listen, if you can’t, I understand. If you can, it would be a huge help.” When Jesse’s brows rose in silent question, Bryce couldn’t hide a smile. “I found her.”

“What?” Jesse’s mouth fell open. “Her? The club woman?”

“Yeah. Well, I didn’t exactly find her”—he motioned to the paper—“otherwise I wouldn’t be asking this favor. She came into the store earlier tonight.”

“You speak her name and she manifests.” Jesse chuckled, looking over the scribbled letters and numbers. “I’ll see what I can come up with and text you later. I’ve two reports I need to finish up first.”

Excitement bubbled inside him. “Whenever you can get around to it, and only if you can do it without getting in trouble.”

“Have you figured out what you’re going to do about Kate?” Jesse asked, securing the scrap of paper to his clipboard. “If things pan out with this mystery woman?”

Yes. He knew. He just needed to calculate his next move carefully.

“Let’s see what happens first.” He glanced at his dashboard clock. “I’ve a meeting with the old man. I’ll catch you later.”

“She better be worth it, man,” Jesse called as Bryce knocked the truck into gear.

“Trust me, she’s worth much more.”

She’s worth everything, if my dreams are a past reality.

He arrived at his parents’ house a short time later, several texts from Kate lighting up his phone. He sent her a short text to let her know that he was speaking with his father before abandoning his phone in the truck and heading up to the front door. He let himself in and went straight to his father’s office off the west wing of the house, hoping to avoid any confrontation with his mother on this particular visit. The last thing he cared to deal with tonight was a brutal interrogation and cross-examination.

“Come in, son.”

Bryce slipped through the double doors and closed them quietly behind him. His father rounded the large, masculine desk that sat in front of a wall of bookcases filled with law and political journals and books, and some priceless antiqueeditions of his father’s favorite novels. Everything about the office space spoke of richness and warmth, a stark contrast to the rest of the house. If his mother put as much effort into spending time with Bryce over the years as she put into discussing interior décor with top designers and learning Kate’s every like and dislike, perhaps she would have noticed how unhappy he’d become.

“Rough day?” his father asked, clapping him on the shoulder in greeting. Bryce shook out of his coat and hung it on the stand beside the doors.

“Long few months is more like it.”

His father chuckled, draping an arm around Bryce’s shoulders and leading him to the twin leather chairs positioned in front of the marble fireplace. The man must have been holed up in his office for hours to light a fire, but Bryce welcomed the warmth as he took a seat.

“Here.” His father poured out two servings of top-shelf whiskey from a decanter and handed one of the tumblers to him. “Should help a bit.” He took a seat and sipped his whiskey as Bryce swirled his in his glass. “If I were to guess, you want to talk about Kate and the wedding.”

Bryce snorted, shook his head, and took a nice pull of whiskey. “Mom got to you, did she?”

“She tried to enlist my help in speaking with you on Kate’s behalf.”

“Of course she did,” he muttered against the rim. “Does she know I’m here tonight?”

His father angled his head, watching Bryce closely. “No. She’s been in her office working on a case with Donna.”

“Good.”

“Your mother said you two had a disagreement at the Feltons’ yesterday. She mentioned you weren’t getting to voice your opinions about wedding details?”

Bryce nearly spit out his whiskey, but managed to swallow it before laughing. He twisted in the chair, catching his father’s blue gaze and wagged a finger.

“That’s what she told you? That I threw a fit because my opinion about wedding details was being ignored?” He narrowed his gaze, a scowl crossing his mouth. “Really?”

His father took another sip of whiskey before he sat back and propped his ankle on his knee. “I know your mother has a tendency to play words to suit her purpose, Bryce. I read between the lines.” He tipped his glass toward his son. “You’re having second thoughts about Kate. Care to explain why?”

Bryce lowered his head, staring into the glass as the firelight gave the liquid a soothing golden glow. He’d come here to feel out his father’s reaction if Bryce decided to cancel the engagement. To understand just how important a marriage to Kate was to his campaign.

His father’s quiet chuckle dashed his lingering nervousness. “Son, I’m not like your mother. If you’re unhappy with the arrangement, I would expect nothing less than for you to do the right thing. For you.”